


Poison

by Exophile_3D (bearbane)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breathplay, Constriction, F/M, Fingering, Hand Jobs, MONSTER FUCKER, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Lover, Monsters, Naga, Naga Boyfriend, Vaginal Fingering, monster x human, naga fucker, naga lover, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearbane/pseuds/Exophile_3D
Summary: Male naga / Female reader (NSFW)Female reader visits a naga to get some poison.
Relationships: male naga / female reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 116





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> “You’re poison running through my veins.” Alice Cooper.

The familiar scent coils around you as you descend the stone path into the dark maw of the cave. The light from your torch licks the walls and leaves orange stains that fade to black as you pass. You know what awaits, far below in the depths. You need its aid, for it alone can give you what you need, and you know the price it will put upon its produce, a price that already has goosebumps setting the hairs on your arms on end. There is no other source for this unique toxin however, which paralyses then eats away at your enemies from the inside out while they still live. Your foes are many and foul, deserving of a horrific death, and this is not the first time you have bartered with the creature for its goods.

The narrow sloping tunnel opens onto a well-lit, circular cavern, no more than forty feet in diameter, which makes up the subterranean trader’s living space. The roof is hung with roots that have grown down from the daylit world in search of water, and now serve a new purpose as they form loops when they try to grow back out towards the light. Shelves and chests line the walls, filled with books, crafting and potion-making paraphernalia, and assorted trinkets. While the trader makes and sells his own ready-made potions, you have come to take directly from the source, to harvest the product in its raw form, and make your own, even deadlier brew.

The cavern appears empty as you step across the threshold, and for a moment you wonder if he has perhaps gone hunting, but a lazy hiss from above soon puts paid to that idea. Your gaze shoots up in alarm, and there, in an almost impossible position is the naga you have come to procure from. His upper body hangs free, dangling in mid-air about ten feet above your head, while the thick, lengthy coils of his tail are looped in and around the roots hanging from the ceiling. Black hair frames his slender face, and his scales glimmer in the light of the torch in scintillant shades of golden yellow and cerulean blue. Short, sharp horns protrude from his face at nose and temple, and put you in mind of some of the more dangerous vipers you have seen in the wilds.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you say. He has never been bothered by your intrusions in the past, but there is always a first time, and you really do not want to be on the wrong side of him.

He descends smoothly towards the ground and you step to one side to allow him to alight, the coils above unwinding in stealthy silence as he does so. Once the last of his tail has reached ground level, he holds his torso aloft on the front quarter so that he is looking down on you from a height of around seven feet. He smiles, although the expression is one you had to come to learn, so different is it from a human smile. His mouth is stiffly edged, with no mobile flesh at its borders, just larger scales that hint at where lips would be on another being. It extends back to the base of his ears, and you know from intimate experience just how wide his jaw can open. Now it hangs ajar just an inch or so, and his forked, red tongue slips out occasionally to savour the air: his smile, or his closest approximation of one.

“Not at all,” he replies. The voice is deeper than you would expect from a creature with a face so slender, and it is as soft as velvet. You resist the urge to look into his eyes. You know the danger inherent in that, although he has already told you he is not in the habit of harming his customers: it would be bad for business. “So what will it be today?” he asks lightly. “I have some new brews that are colourless, tasteless and undetectable when added to wine, for example.”

You swallow, your eyes drawn up over his hard mouth as he speaks, and itching to wander higher. You both know that is not what you came for.

“I’ve also been working on a condiment, a spicy sauce that will leave the taster _burning_ inside,” he offers. A normal trader would be lifting the relevant bottles now and placing them in the customer’s hands, enticing them to buy. He has not moved from where he hovers just before you, tantalising your nostrils with the dry, earthy smell of him. Your gaze passes the small, spiked horn on his nose and pauses at his cheek.

“My need is for something a little more … _raw_ ,” you say. You are swaying on your feet now with the effort of keeping your gaze away from his eyes and you can feel your resolve wavering. His hand catches you under the chin, the underside of it cool and soft, and one of the few areas of his skin that is bereft of scales. He helps you past the final few seconds of your resistance, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his and your surrender is complete. Twin orbs of gold, speckled with jade suck you into their depths and your entire body suffuses with warmth.

“I think we can accommodate ‘raw’,” comes the silky response, but it sounds muffled, distant, external. All you care about is drowning yourself in those golden eyes. A familiar pressure begins to build, starting at your ankles, then working its way slowly up your calves and thighs as hard, gold-and-blue scaled coils are thrown around your body in quick succession, and you draw a deep breath, while you still can.

“Let’s see what we can … negotiate, shall we?” he asks. You nod, careful not to move your head too far in case those fascinating eyes are lost from view. The pressure is around your waist now, pinning your arms to your sides, and you are lifted from the ground as easily as you would lift a doll. You are aware of the cave ceiling above you moving as he transports you bodily to the pile of satin-covered cushions and plush furs in the circular depression in the far corner of the cave, and deposits you neatly in its centre. His coils undulate against you, squeezing and releasing as he rearranges you both to his liking, and in the process, he strips away your clothing in slow, efficient motions, holding your enraptured gaze through every last second of the undressing.

Presently, he hums in satisfaction. Your torso is secured in the lower, tapering end of his tail, while the thicker portion closer to his midriff is parting your legs as his upper body hovers above you. You can see the salacious enjoyment he is taking from having you trussed and yielding like this, and it alone would be enough to arouse you. But it is what he does to you physically, creating sensations no male of your species could ever emulate, that brings you back here time and again for the experience that only he can provide. His ridged scales tickle and tease where they rub between your thighs, and the length of tail he has pressed around your chest is moving from side to side incessantly, dragging cool and smooth against your nipples. With each movement, he constricts just ever so slightly, making each breath just a little more of an effort, and causing the blood to pound in temple and crotch.

He lowers his face to yours, brushing the cool scales of his mouth against your lips, and tasting you with a darting, forked tongue. “You know my price,” he hisses. You nod, heat snaking through your belly as you think about what is in store, and as always, you hope that this time, he will give you what you truly want.

“My arms,” you slur, appalled at the sluggishness of both your words, and your limbs as he releases them. His tail wraps tightly around your breasts as soon as your arms are free, and begins to constrict and slide against them once more, sending tingles through your body from breast to groin. You reach down, trailing numb fingers across the soft scales of his belly, down to where his vent awaits your touch. You find he has already broken free, and his twin shafts are emerging steadily from their sheaths, slick and hard beneath your fingers. You draw in a ragged breath at the evidence of his desire for you, and as you exhale, he closes his coils to the point where you know your next breath will be a tiny, shallow mockery of itself.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your mouth. Those golden eyes seem to swirl in your vision at this intimate proximity. He knows. He has always known, but you suspect he likes to hear you say it while he denies you. You grasp a shaft in each of your hands, taking as firm a grip as you are able, and begin to slide the skin up and down in long, smooth motions. He gasps against your lips, and tightens his grip around your ribs until you squeak in protest.

“ _Tell me_.”

“ _Inside_ ,” you gasp. His fingers have reached your own heat now, and they run teasingly against your folds, circling your clit as the wider portion of his tail continues to slide between your legs, igniting its own heated friction.

“You’ll have to be a little more explicit than that,” he advises in a tone that could melt icebergs.

You groan, annoyed at him despite the pleasure that is causing little shivers and shudders throughout your entire core. You want to comply with his racy demand, and tell him how much you want him inside you, but not only does he already know, but you know it won’t make any difference. It is always like this: he teases you with the prospect of the full force of his twin rods plundering your depths, promising _‘next time’, ‘next time’_ ; but he never does. He knows it will keep you coming back, like an addict, hoping that one day he will relent.

His fingers slip past your lips and pass easily into your constricting depths. You draw in a shallow breath, nowhere near as much as you need, and the sensations strengthen as he buries two fingers in you to the last knuckle.

“If you don’t tell me, how will I know?” he asks. His eyes burn, his scales chafe your nipples, and his fingers plunge in a steadily speeding rhythm while you consider how to respond. Your hands work at his cocks, sliding against them with the same tempo as his pounding fingers and you can think of nothing now but how they would feel inside you. They are smoother than the rest of his hide, but ridged in a million tiny scales that you know will set your insides on fire, and warmth floods your crotch as you imagine being taken and pounded and squeezed and ravaged by him.

“ _What do you want_?” he demands, his voice close to a roar now as he finger-fucks you while your hands move in a blur against his slick dicks, and you know you are both close.

Annoyed at your silence, the very end of his tail, no thicker than your wrist, wraps around your throat and closes off what little air remains to you. Your chest begins to hitch. Each sensation blooms with added potency and you shudder uncontrollably as with the last of your air, you gasp, “I want you to fuck me.”

He thrusts forward with his hips, forcing your hands to the very base of his twin shafts as your simple expression of desire, spoken with the very last of your breath, causes a veritable explosion of cum, and he empties himself onto your belly in hot, spurting gouts as his fingers curl inside you and send you shuddering into your own breathless climax.

Panting, red-faced, but tingling with satisfaction, you suck in a huge, noisy breath as his tail unwinds from your chest and throat. You can look him in the eye with no effect now that his needs are met, and you find there the same lazy delight that you are sure marks your own features. You stay still for a while, basking in the afterglow, until he releases you from his coils to perform the service for which you came. You watch fascinated as he opens his jaws to their full extent and milks his own four-inch fangs into the glass jar you brought for this exact purpose. You dress quickly, not wanting to outstay your welcome, and take the jar as he hands it to you. He keeps a grip on it, causing you to falter and glance to his face as you try and fail to take it from him. His eyes sparkle and threaten to draw you in again, and you drop your gaze quickly, noting the jar has twice as much venom in it as the last time you came.

“For your enemies,” he says, and the ‘s’ comes out as a low, vocal rumbling ‘z’ that sets your skin tingling. “May they die in pain and regret the day they crossed you.” Your brows twitch. He has never expressed interest in your use of the toxin before, and you wonder if perhaps it signifies a change in your relationship.

Whether it does or not, you both know you will be back, for next time, next time, he may just fulfill your wish.


End file.
